To Date a Yautja
by Sonsasu the Gray Daiconi
Summary: A Yautja online? Sure why not, I've been talking to him for awhile now, and he really knows how to stay in character. Hey wait...that's not a costume. (Story not to be taken serious.)
1. The First Signs of Trouble

**To Date A Yautja**

**By, Sonsasu**

**Chapter One**

**"The First Signs of Trouble"**

* * *

Walking over the obstacles of two giant glass mugs, a bowl with a spoon in it, and wads of used clothing scattered about the floor, I nudged things aside with a bare foot, forging a path before sitting down at my simple desk. As the only thing that was remotely clean in my room, its surface remained buried under sheets of unfinished homework, and piled atop of that were drawings of Predators, Xenomorphs and several Dragons.

Running a hand through black hair with a dingy purple dye tipping its ends, I removed a white hair band from my wrist, sliding it on the shoulder length locks, thus turning it into a simple ponytail. Once finished, I pressed a random button on my keyboard, bringing one of the laziest computers back from its nap.

The same old screensaver, an emoticon vampire on a dimmed crimson background, greeted me with a smug, toothy smirk.

Placing my right hand on the mouse beside the keyboard, I moved the cursor to pull up the start menu, clicking on yahoo messenger. I quickly signed in, expecting no one to be on at this late hour.

A grin spread on my face as I spied the name Predy in my slender lineup of online friends. I happily tapped on his name, sending him an IM as soon as the messenger bubble appeared.

"I didn't think anyone was on." I fought to get rid of my growing smile, seeing no reason to show emotion to someone who could not see it.

"Ah, and yet here I am, Winterborn." The once reduced pull on my mouth came back to full force. "So, what you been up to, great and mighty Predator?" The rapping of my fingers striking the keys seemed loud in my quiet room.

"I am still searching for worthy Oomans to hunt, do you know of any?" I shook my head; Predy never did like dropping his persona of being a Yautja on the hunt.

I sent him my reply.

"Aw, so sorry, I'm not on the hunting list fella." Feeling an unpleasant twinge in my shoulders, I leaned back in my spongy chair of soft brown leather and tossed a leg over its padded armrest, keeping my sun-kissed fingers lax, but ready to dance over the keyboard.

"How saddening, I would relish the pleasure to pursue you instead of these decrepit Ooman males."

I, in an unquiet huff of air, snorted; he probably would enjoy the chase. "Yeah, you know I'd be the ultimate challenge, big guy. You'd never be able to catch me." Just for good measure, I contributed a smiley face with its tongue sticking out.

"Is this an offer, dear one?"

I nibbled on the skin of my lower lip to keep anymore less-than-silent outbursts at bay. "Err, yeah sure..." On a sudden thought that induced a lewd noise from me, I included something else. "On the condition that you ravish me and I get to be your pampered pet if you can catch me." So he would be aware of the sarcasm, I gave him a smiley face with its eyes rolling.

"Good, and your terms are accepted."

I cast my own gray gaze skyward in annoyance; he had to be by far the most unsarcastic person I knew. "Okay…and how are you going to stick with those specific requests if you're going to hunt me? Personally, I like my skull right where it is, thank you very much."

He chose not to immediately reply.

I pursed my lips in the stretch of time that Predy stayed silent, thinking. Constantly watching episodes of CSI had turned me suspicious of those that were unknown to me in life outside of the internet.

"I would not harm you, Winterborn. The high matriarch of my people prohibits it, so long as you are not a great threat. For such a thing would bruise a hunter's reputation and honor. When we hunt females, it is for entirely different reasons."

His obvious intentions through his wording brought to life a droll snicker. "You're such a lecher, I'm blushing now." I released a chuckle, but forced it to persist as a breathy ghost of its full glory.

"Alright, change of subject. What state do you live in?" That seemed like a safer ground to be on, or so I believed.

"You have already asked me this before. Therefore, my answer is the same. I am orbiting your planet in space, speaking to you from my ship."

A real live Predator with a yahoo messenger, sure why not, at least he could stay in character.

"If you say so, but it's too bad you're all the way up there. I would have loved to meet you." Teasing him seemed okay, considering that unless he had one hell of a costume, he could not back up any of his Predator-related claims.

"Actually, I'd want to touch you. A real live Yautja makes me shiver with just his image, and that type of thrill I get is the welcome kind. After all, I've always thought your people were like an aphrodisiac for the eyes. All those big, strong muscles, incredibly statuesque, and unique skin just begging for an exploration, it's enough to make a poor human girl weak in the knees. Oh, and I especially love the dreadlocks, and can't forget those powerful mandibles."

I removed my hand from the mouse and sealed it over my lips, lest I start laughing aloud. If he actually was a Predator, God forbid, then this had to be by far the biggest ego stroke.

"This is deeply pleasing to hear! Many Ooman females instantly find Yautja repulsing, and are not openly delighted by our appearances."

It was with one hand I responded to him, still fighting with my quivering mirth. "Well, the ones who are spooked by your looks are just empty headed twats, then. On the other hand, maybe they're intimidated because of the trophy thing. Ladies don't often enjoy the idea of seeing other human skulls on display."

Finally resuming control over my laugher after hitting the send button, I began typing again before he could finish whatever he was writing in response on the other end. "Don't worry handsome, if I ever get to see your collection, I would adore your trophies. Skulls don't bother me, and I have no doubt you've got more then any hunter around, of course. Although you still have to catch me, ravish me, and so on before we get to that point."

A little voice, hissing warnings like a demented soothsayer on crack, started nagging me over going too far in what I said to Predy.

I stitched its motor of a mouth with simple logic.

My dear, yet ridiculously persistent role-playing friend did not know where I resided or what I looked like. Heck, he did not even know my real name.

"I do not think you can fully grasp what pleasure I gain in hearing you say these things."

I was sorely tempted to correct him, there was no way he could _hear_ me say anything.

"First, I need to understand something, Winterborn."

My eyebrows tightened in a mild frown. "Uh, ask away."

"You do not fear the Yautja, and you clearly know of us, how and why?"

I hesitated for several heartbeats, my mind buzzing like a frantic beehive.

In those sluggish seconds spent formulating a complex story that had a plot hole big enough to drive a truck through, an image of a movie flicked a light bulb on in my head.

A Cheshire cat grin abruptly lit up my face as my fingers went to work on the keyboard.

"When I was younger, six years old I think, I saw a Predator during his hunt. I can't remember where it was anymore, though." I did not bother to mention that it was a movie I had seen, not the real thing.

"Even though the killing was terrifyingly vicious and the bloodshed sent me to hide behind something, I was whole heartedly fascinated with him. His movements, his unending might, even his armored appearance tugged at something within me. When the fighting ended, however, I snuck out and went near him. His deep growling made me shudder once he saw me, but I liked it, and stood there watching him collect his grisly trophies. Anyway, I was a kid, and the memory is fairly old and dim. And about my learning a few facts on the Yautja, I've dragged up every scrap of information ever known to man. My information goes to detailed legends, to stories told to frighten children, that…and a little guessing here and there to fill in the blanks."

A tongue-curling yawn escaped before I could smother it.

"Do you have a mate, Winterborn?"

Damn, well that one came way out of left field.

"Err, no. I tend to scare off people who even consider me date worthy material. Most men enjoy the usual things in women that I refused to do most of the time. Like removal of body hair. I think I can pull off the look that makes me seem like I'm smuggling Chewbacca under my clothes. Having sex is another issue, never done it before, and I want someone that's a hell of a lot more experienced then I am in bed. Ah, and of course, not to behave like another guy, it just wrinkles their precious masculinity when a gal can be more of a man then someone without a pinky for a pecker."

An imp of lascivious thoughts whispered in my ear and guided my fingers to a new question.

"Speaking of peckers, mind if this Peter Piper knows what she'll be picking?"

I stared at what was just typed, my jaw honestly slack, before angrily batting at the invisible imp hovering on my shoulder.

"An amusing question, but I will answer it for you."

I could feel the hot sting of a blush heat my cheeks.

"My length is longer, and its girth thicker then any pitiful Ooman male's greatest dream for one. Moreover, its sight will make you ache and tremble for it to be inside you, taming your body to belong to mine."

Yep, and that is what I get for listening to an imaginary, horny imp.

"That was an impressive boast, I guess. Trick is do you have the skills to use it to perform the so-called taming of yours? Let's say, if you manage to capture me, what will you do?"

I felt like giving myself a pat on the shoulder for that one.

"Your doubt over the accuracy of my size will be soothed once I have you under me. Nevertheless, what demands my attention is the thought of dominating your unseasoned body. It will be gratifying, and I am more then willing to reveal the details of what you will be begging for in time."

A small twinge of warmth accosted my frame. Boy, oh boy was he a confident one tonight.

"My tongue will be the first to sample you and make your senses writhe with the sweet burn of lust before my fingers relieve the ache. And once you are well prepared, I will take my time and relish your cries for more when, and as I take you."

That subjected me to a shift in my seat.

"I shall find you tomorrow evening, and make good on this promise."

Hey, wait a second.

Aw, hell no, he was going to pay my ass a visit tomorrow?

"Hold on, two fair questions. How do you know I'm not some disturbed, insane freak of a person? For all you know I could be diseased, or with some government agency. Okay, three questions now, exactly how are you going to find me?"

My once ignored concern flared multiple red flags, and the demented soothsayer on crack said, "I told you so."

"And three perfectly fine answers in return. Even _if_ you have the damage of madness, you do not pose a threat physically. _If_ you are diseased, my ship's medical lab has many ways to cure such sicknesses. _I__f_ you are apart of those who would seek to steal Yautja technologies, I would first hunt you down, and gather the needed information. Afterwards, I would go to wherever these insects reside and remove them."

I guess I was a glutton for punishment. "What happens to me…?"

"You would not suffer death, if that is what concerns you. I would keep you as a private slave for my pleasure."

I should have listened to that damn nagging voice.

"As for locating you, your primitive computer emits a signal that I can track easily."

The word primitive dropped a kink into my pride for humanity's technological advances, yet my next question had already gone to him before I could give a good retort. "That's something that's been bugging me lately. How did you find me out of the billions of people on the internet?"

Ugh, wonderful, now I was acting as if he really was a Yautja.

"When I came into orbit around your home world, I received an interesting and unguarded display point of signals. Filtering out the many other distractions that came with it, I discovered a massive communications program called Yahoo messenger listing. Curious, I studied this Ooman system of sending messages for a time. Eventually, it gave individual names of those who lingered in the broadcast range, far too many to examine in one lifetime. Thus, to minimize time wastage, I searched for a single name, and found yours. Winterborn is the honored title of the one who gave birth to me."

Well, that explanation pretty much took the whole frigging cake and left me the hard chip-a-tooth frosting.

I set my fingers onto the keys, but never got the chance to say anything.

"I will show you once I have taken you to my ship, after I have won the chase and our mating."

Before I could persuade him with different and utterly horrible reasons not to, he signed off.

"Oh shit, shit, shit, shitty, shit, shit."

Great, just want I always wanted! A horny role-playing stalker, could my week get any better? I had only been talking to Predy for scarcely a week and a half and still did not know his name. When asked, the bastard always said, _"Only proven warriors or honored hunters may know a Yautja's blood name."_

Jerk.

Oh even better, I realized upon looking out the window, I would be getting a full two hours of sleep before getting up again. Sighing in aggravation, I logged off, cleaned out the cookie cache and then shut it down, which took a full minute because the computer despised my late habits and me. Holding my lower lip hostage between my teeth, I began to consider how to wiggle out of this situation, and then thumped myself upside the forehead. He did not know what I looked like or where I lived, and he was certainly not a real live Predator.

Probably should not even be worrying about this, I mused.

Releasing said lip and then running a palm down my face, I untangled from the chair and got up. I eased stiff limbs with a good stretch before crawling onto my small, unmade bed set against my desk's front. Mumbling in bliss, I reclined upon my side, head pillowed on my folded arm.

Set underneath a low solitary window, my comforting view of an outside world, meaning the palely lit sky, consisted of three pleasant details.

Skeletal branches of a tree long ago dead, rested on the edges of the panel, dissecting the sky like thick, spider web cracks of shattered glass. Whilst beyond, hundreds of stars slowly faded, struggling to shine their brilliance in the oncoming morning light.

Yet one thing beguiled my unhindered sight, binding me in an enchantment of sleepy content.

Hovering just beyond a pallid crimson horizon, the dimmed sphere of the moon barely remained in the corner of my screened window frame. Watching that ivory quarter hang in the heavens, an obtuse thought rekindled itself, along with a violent shiver.

I _really_ needed to turn off the air conditioner.

Fortunately, the wrinkled blue sheets contained the scant warmth absorbed from of the night air, giving me a moment's repose from the cold. My gray pajamas' I normally wore never contained any kind of heat within the freezing room.

Wearily, I balled up on myself and seduced heavy eyelids to fall shut. In the small unfolding of seconds, quickly turning into minutes, I did nothing but listen to distant hoots of owls and the soft chirp of crickets.

While still battling the concern of how Predy could possibly find me…

* * *

**-Disclaimer-**

**Sonsasu does not own Predator**


	2. The Cave

**To Date a Yautja**

**By, Sonsasu**

**Chapter Two**

"**The Cave"**

* * *

**The next morning**

* * *

The static blare of my alarm clock startled me into what felt like a miniature heart attack.

Frigid fingers, clumsy and stiff, shot out to the bedside table on my left, searching blindly for the accursed off button, or at least the snooze switch. When they continued without success, I fumbled with then seized the clock's plug and gave it a savage yank.

This effectively shut off the screeching noise, giving me the freedom of scant, torpid seconds for a sleep-depraved brain to function. Struggling to suck in a shallow breath though stuffy nostrils, I wearily lifted an arm and pried one eye open.

Six, mother, fucking, A.M. the make you-go-crossed-eyed-as-a-bat numbers on my digital watch read.

It was time to get up.

Letting the bloodshot eye fall shut again, I untangled from the blankets and rose like a zombie, grunting, groaning, and ultimately slouching as though my back were broken. I dragged reluctant feet to the door, not precisely feeling a requirement to rush beyond my capabilities of current movement…

It took sixty minutes for me to depart the pleasantly warm shower, thirty to dress, and another thirty to shake off the sluggish sensation of waking at dawn.

Coming alive two hours before actually going into work might perhaps sound frivolous, but I was never one to move swiftly under the happening of any less-than-desperate events.

As neither someone who was in no way an epitome for a morning person, _nor_ someone who enjoyed working for six _long_ hours, standing on aching feet in a very busy store, I still had to get up at the ass crack of dawn.

Ordinarily overlooking a cash register and catering to irritating people, I only tolerated my job because the pay was remarkably good. Besides answering random questions of an absurd nature, pointing occasionally lost customers in the correct direction to desired items, selling essentials along with useless junk and trinkets, it was reasonably fair.

During closing time, whoever possessed the late shift would refold clothing, print new shirt decals, put things away, or rest them once again in their original places. Unfortunately, I was often mystified on how my so-called friends got me stuck with said unwanted shift…

Shady Oasis, the close to home store for all your needs; we have a delightful staff who are always willing to help and offer a friendly smile. For your convenience, we are open late on weekdays, including weekends and holidays. We pride ourselves in offering only the highest quality items at lowest prices. We invite you to come to view our selections and judge for yourself. For at Shady Oasis, we guarantee prices below all competitors because customer satisfaction is our number one goal.

Oh, and on a side note, no, I never included myself in that ridiculous statement of servitude with a smile.

Walking down the dimly lit hall either leading to my single bedchamber, the bathroom, or the living room, I passed a window on my left. As I went by it, I brushed a damp lock of hair behind my ear. Despite the humid morning of seventy-six degrees outside, the air conditioner constantly kept it at a rather uncomfortable temperature of sixty, and so, say hello to my tiny, inexpensive, Popsicle Condominium.

I came prepared, however, with a preferred style of clothing.

My fashion consisted of a baggy pair of desert camouflage shorts that hung comfortably on my hips with a belt, and a snug, sleeveless, bright orange shirt. Yes, I liked standing out with my trademark of extremely gaudy and mismatched clothing.

Exiting the hall from there, I went and fetched my things that I had tossed on the small, beat-up blue couch the previous day. What I picked up was my old, ugly green book bag filled to the zipper with needed junk, and my black boots sitting against said piece of butt parking furniture.

Equipping my two accessories, I considered snagging a water bottle from my not-so-pristine kitchen, and then chucked the ideal, choosing rather to head on out to begin my day.

It was on the falling hour of evening I finally escaped to liberation.

Instead of leaving at my normal two PM release, I had put in a few extra hours to cover my under the weather friend Zola's shift.

As the sliding doors hissed shut behind me and the calls of farewell from Mitch and Anna cut off, I inhaled the warm, dense air of a dying summer day. Bliss, an absolute relief, repaired my chilled frame with the remaining hot rays of sunlight.

Upon tilting my head back to remove a few kinks from my neck, I peered skyward, admiring the fat, white puffs of lazily drifting cumulus. A gradual recollection brought on by what I was observing dredged up the unwanted, but distant thought of Predy. His promise of locating me this evening did rattle my sense of ease and make it depart like passing gas.

Thankfully, in that streak of time from morn to dusk, I had erased the brunt of the concern. More like the badgering of an endless stream of customers constantly plaguing me had did it.

No matter, I reflected. It was Friday evening and I was free. Even better, there were unexecuted plans to fulfill. Thus, I gave the headache of Predy a pair of cement boots and kicked it out of my mind.

In a striding gait that my stiff legs wailed over, I crossed the strangely inactive street, basking in the waves of heat rising off the asphalt. Leaving the town's business section and its large, safe, squat brick buildings, for the harsh, rocky ravine shrouded thickly with trees, to some, appeared a peculiar sight.

Dangerous footing with uneven, loose rocks, and steep inclines, made it near impossible to appeal for idle wonderers who did not know where they were going. I on the other hand, had an exact destination in mind.

One where no one, save for an expert mountaineer, could follow.

Glancing for a fleeting moment over my shoulder to the chain of man made structures lining the street, and then to the descending sun behind them, I came close to reconsidering my intended path.

Confidence, however, helped to shrug my worry.

Two years of tracking my shadowy route had instilled a fine memory of where I needed to seek my bearings, even when in the onset of semidarkness enclosing on the outside world. It was also the bloodied knees, scuffed, calloused hands, bruises and brutal cuts I suffered during my toils of climbing that had helped to veil the perception of unfamiliarity on evenings.

Tightening the straps and securing my book bag until I was certain it would not bump me nor sway with movement, I went so far as to ready myself by kneeling, untying, then retying my boots, least they fail me for whatever reason. Yet as I laced the shoestrings together, on some unidentified impulse, I suddenly gazed up and out past the small clearing of gnarled trunks to where the barely visible path started.

Divided at the lower portions of their twisted, bent bodies and rough, skin-stealing bark, down to their protruding roots riving the dry, dirt ground like knobbed arches of serpents, to the first beginning slope, I frowned.

Had I just heard the breathy rattle of clicking?

I shook my head. No, it had to be my nerves. At least that is what I told myself before my fingers and limbs, practiced with time and memory, carried me ahead then downward.

Several rather unforeseen incidents later, where my heart constricted on every narrow evasion of disaster, I had scarcely made it to the bottom cliff level that ended by leading to the calm, but incredibly treacherous river below.

With just enough broken ledge so that the toes of my boots rested on it, I maintained a death grip on a dry, dead vine, one of many that layered the ridges of the vertical crag's surface.

An angel must have been watching, because just as I had reached this point, using the spindly ropes of nature to help steady my way across, the one in my hand had snapped, causing terror to poison my veins in an instant.

Somehow, on a merciful miracle, it had apparently snagged on something, halting my struggling advance to the crumbling fringe of rock I now stood on.

Cheek pressed tightly to the crude, bumpy stone, I shut my eyes to avoid the hail of pebbles bouncing off my head, and fought not to sneeze with the stirred clouds of dirt tickling my nose. Unthinking to the abused the side of my face endured, I forced myself to open an eye and look up.

Nothing, nothing was there holding it in place. Unless the empty grasp of air counted for something.

As I gawked stupidly at the browned corpse arrested in my hands, firm and creaking in protest that hung taut with the burden of my weight, I then sputtered and spit out a pellet that unceremoniously dropped into my mouth. Yum, a person just has to adore the gritty taste of dirt and the trill of pure terror.

Taste testing soil and fear aside, what bothered me was that something was keeping the vine suspended in thin air.

My breath emerged as a shaky exhale. Well, I did not wish to press the flickering character of luck. To each grip I therefore discovered, my pace, from that past occurrence on, was slower and thrice more cautious.

Eventually, with the pace of a snail, I attained the first end of my journey.

A cave mouth, a wide orifice hole concealed in an unraveled blanket of deceased, hanging plant life is what I sought. I slowly snuck a foot lightly onto its curled lip, timid towards the snarled teeth of various stalagmite sizes concealed from my view, and restrained my weary muscles begging for rest as I crept over the areas bathed with slippery moss.

In a few minutes spent carefully slinking deeper, I passed into the throat-like tunnel with its stale breath heavily suspended with a moist chill. Employing delicate maneuvers to keep my balance, I traveled further within.

Unaware that another trailed closely behind…

* * *

**-Disclaimer-**

**Sonsasu does not own Predator**

* * *

**A.N**

**Many thanks to my beta.**


	3. The Angel's Paradise

**To Date a Yautja**

**By, Sonsasu**

**Chapter Three**

"**The Angel's Paradise"**

* * *

The darkness, lurking ahead like a famished fiend, swallowed my form in its inky blackness as I continued. My chosen course always left me victim to the influence of blindness and caged in the embrace of utter silence.

Tempted, for naught but a quivering moment to assure myself there was a glimmer of light behind me, I physically snuffed this desire by setting my hand against the bowed, cold, smooth rock beside me. It did not make sense to have to seek the dim glow of illumination on a frightened urge for restoring self-serenity. Actually, I welcomed the quiet and its stillness, if only on an unconscious level.

Obtaining a deeper progress in my sightless trail gleaned from the crop of remembrance, I mused over why I experienced relief in this secluded solitude, mostly to take my mind off the claustrophobic feeling steadily squeezing my ribs.

Ah, it was because I was not hassled here, I realized, and that no one could demand anything that I was reluctant to surrender. It was also the miraculous fact I did not have to deal with snappy individuals in dour moods hoping to infect others with their aggravations. Yes, that concept alone gave me an elated sense of joy. In short, I was riding cloud nine when in the belly of my secret underground sanctuary.

Unfortunately, I had a ways to go still.

On I went through the undulating, individual tunnel with my hand there to impart its guidance, welcoming the slither of apprehension that infected the passage of time. It merely mounted higher as I proceeded, affecting my once easy locomotion of walking on faith of touch and memory. In the acknowledgment of this, I began to use my sense of touch more acutely, waiting for a certain point necessitated for my safety.

Sure enough, my fingers, in a sharp dip that they vanished into, delved in a jagged crack dissecting the otherwise sleek wall.

Immediately I paused and began counting my steps in measured movements. Five paces ahead, my stomach gently encountered the barrier of a thin wire. Once I had decided to make this place my own, I had set up these special reminders to both help me determine my headings and to serve as a warning system. A wide side step away from my inanimate usher and I went to my knees, making sure to keep contact with the thread on a palm.

Crawling until my shoulder and the bottom of my neck brushed another, I stopped.

Twelve wires, each from a superfine fishing line, kept the naked eye unaware of their presence, as it was barely possible to see them even if in the cast of light. I had personally seen to pegging their ends like a spinning clock hand, every one elaborately placed to mark an independent hour. All were intentionality spaced apart by the length of my arm, and so I could recall their placements easier, I deliberately ran into them, counting these silent watchdogs, using them like an escort as my body lightly struck them. This acted as a harmless security, so to speak.

If anyone came in after me, or discovered this setting, they of course would undo their unwelcome presence into my trap, thus announcing the intrusion.

In no time flat, I hit the last string that distinguished the ambiance of midnight and vertically cleft the cave's passage. I still had to count my strides, though, for there sat one more ambush for the unwary.

My scooting feet felt and found what I was waiting for with a small bloom of comforting solace.

It was a grievous maw that my hands had not influenced, a natural pitfall fogged by shadows and ebon colored stone. The pit was not very deep in the way of falling. In fact, anyone could climb right out. It was in the surprise crash that hid the real danger. It only takes one broken neck to kill you.

I skimmed the hollow's brim until my searching hand found the right side of the curving wall. No longer requiring caution now that I felt the ledge, I went with as much swiftness as one could muster in the darkness.

Light, soft as a flickering candle dancing in the darkness of an empty room, was the reward for my straining eyes. I abandoned my worries of tripping and jogged over the remnant of the distance.

A faint, pleased noise tore itself past my lips once I entered the shining depths of my cave.

Say hello to Angel's Paradise, as I had dubbed it some time ago.

Indeed, I speculated, it was a fine paradise, one massive indoor pool included. Over the sleek floor, made glossy from perhaps liquid erosion, I bent down and removed my boots along with my socks.

"Oh man that feels good…hot floor plus icy toes equals' goosebumps of pleasure."

Expressing my compliments through a throaty groan, I quietly squandered the heat flowing around me, chasing the earlier pall of coldness to memory. Still crouched and warming my feet, I regarded the brilliant magnificence of the sight that existed before my roaming gaze. No matter how many sojourns I devoted to this place, it never failed to entrance me with its outstanding example of beauty.

Occupied mainly with a modest lake extending to the far reaches of the domed cavern, I marveled over the source of its vivid luminance. Ornamenting the lofty sable walls in a soft bluish tinge, the radiance originated from an unknown reef variation of aquatic plant life. The comforting glow, for whatever reason, also came packaged with a sweltering heat carrying the oppressing weight of humidity.

Such an odd temperature seemed to rise from the stone, not the water.

Oh hell, the frigging ground was hot like pool tiles under the sun! In other words, and for all I knew, I could have been standing in an inactive volcano, and could have cared less, seeing as that the seasons had no say in this wonderful asylum.

Best of all, I was alone!

A low, but loud hiss, like superheated alloy introduced to the frigid body of snow, exploded from my private sleeping alcove. The explosive noise made me put an unwilling staunch on the start of a partial stretch.

Okay, I guess I did have a roomie, erm, the word roommate being a rather loose term.

* * *

**-Disclaimer-**

**Sonsasu does not own Predator**

* * *

**A.N**

**Many thanks to my beta.**


	4. The Towel

**To Date a Yautja**

**By, Sonsasu**

**Chapter Four**

"**The Towel"**

* * *

"Don't go and be hissing at me, King."

I stood with my arms held above my head and commenced a twisting roll to different angles.

A few joints creaked during the wiggle, followed by the pop of rigid bones loosening themselves with a mild complaint, but after finishing the motions, I crossed the short fragment of space separating me from King and my invaded sleeping cot.

Heaped upon coils thicker than an adult, wild boar's torso, a gigantic mountain of a snake rested. His head, equal in size to a matured Australian crocodile's skull, pursued my approach.

I received the usual flipping of his black forked tongue for a greeting as I went behind him. Finding legroom a precious thing, I perched my palm against the nearest spiral of his body for an equalizer. Under my splayed fingers, I felt muscles contract and shrink away. I removed my hand.

He hated my cold fingers, dispite the thick, prominent overlapping plates of ivory scales layering his body. King, as I had named him two years ago, pivoted his head so that the flushed pink eyes of an albino met with mine, and at the same time, did not.

He gave another dull, slow hiss.

"If that was a question relating to what I think you're asking, then the answer is no. I'm going for a swim first, not napping. Alternatively, if you're hissing at ghosts, please tell them to vanish. I've had a long day and don't want to socialize right now."

Even if he did not entirely comprehend my delivered speech, I knew he understood me on some shade of his reptilian intellect.

Speaking of reptiles, I had no idea what kind of ophidian he was.

At first, I had believed him to be a mutated anaconda. Thing is, he lacked too many of the characteristics for the breed. One of those absent features being that his eyes sat _within_ the sides of his head. Said tools of observation came shielded by bone, and beneath those fascinating aspects, the eye itself existed surrounded by a softer gray flesh around the beady, lidless shells.

What was disturbing, at least to me, were the jutting angles of his teeth. Comprise that with the striking argent quills that decorated his neck like a mane of steel and it simply added to his foreign design. In addition, he was too big and much too long for even an anaconda, and way too docile to be an untamed creature. Such a brooding had originally piloted my thoughts to lead me to think of him as a mutation, or perhaps an undiscovered species all together.

Eventually, however, I decided not to try to classify him.

I was no scientist or greedy person looking for a quick buck. Far from it, I was content with having King as my undefined company and more or less bodyguard. Most of the time, he tolerated me, that or ignored my invasion of his realm, take your pick. The other half, he spent quietly with me relaxing on him. Yes, literally on him like a living sofa.

You are all probably thinking monster snakes would not do that without prior human training and meddling, yada, yada.

Believe me; I had entertained the same damn impression in my head for the longest time too. When I first stumbled on this home away from home, I had also bumbled in on him as well. Uh, all right, all right, he found _me_ instead.

Having explored some of my new refuge for two weeks, I, on the perception of not meeting anything that wanted to munch on me, determined it safe enough to take a nap one day. When I awoke, much to my horror, I was in the loops of his elongated body. Curled around and wrapped up as his hostage, with a pink eye watching me, I abruptly gained the insightful perspective of what it felt like to be overwhelmed with numbing terror.

To this day, I will admit to breaking down in a mute fit of crying for a minor period. By being too scared to allow myself even to shift a hand to wipe away the tickling tears, I had to struggle with my fear while in the clasp of a serpent.

King, bless him, did nothing to increase that panic, not even the wiggle of a tongue.

An hour, maybe longer, passed before I attempted to evade what I thought was to be my death. He let me, going as far as subtly to ease his grip when I stirred. Finally, after freeing my limbs, I had come to his head resting on my belly. In an act that disclosed a sagacious intelligence, it was not I who removed it, but him. With my reeling mind ensnared in confusion, I watched him slip away, using the controlled grace only his kind possessed.

Moreover, as you can guess, I virtually avoided that place for month. Yet mortal curiosity won in the end, and I was very glad it did succeed over common sense.

Anyway, history lesson cut short, King and I were friends.

I chucked my book bag to the edge of the spongy cot, and started to strip. With my apparel gone, intimate undergarments included, I grabbed my bag again, unzipped it, and then kidnapped the stored towel buried beneath two day's worth of clean clothes. I did not want to put on anything wet again, and preferred to keep my selected garments untouched until I needed them. Tossing my beach towel on my shoulders, I crept around King, and happily went to the tranquil water.

Clear as a glass sheet, it surrendered an extraordinarily lit view of the cave's other inhabitants.

These serene dwellers, an unfathomed number of unique fish, glided peacefully before me. Some swam to where I stood, curious if I had any of my treats for them. It brought a smile to shine on my face. Bigger then I, counting the billowing sheet-like fins that ghosted in their wake, they looked like huge, multicolored guppies peeking up at me. I knelt and gingerly trailed my fingers along their slick foreheads before they drifted off like clouds of fluttering smoke.

With my view cleared, I saw the smaller schools comprised of silvery waves of piscine that darted around like currents of restless wind. There were more of course, blending in with the glowing coral like reeds and plants far below, but they were unsocial and less interesting to me.

I shrugged off my plush towel and leapt in, scattering a few nearby aquatic denizens from their shoals.

If I bothered to think about it, the quantities of these creatures did explain the incredible size of King. He appeared to be the only serious carnivore around, and with the internal climate of this untouched shelter, it was a perfect habitat for him and the fish.

My pitiful doggie paddle carried me onward, being as it was the only method I knew how to use when atop the water. Not as warm as a Jacuzzi, but not as cool as a tropical ocean, I pitched over on my back and allowed myself to float for a time in the lukewarm liquid.

Not paying attention in my oblivious bliss, after shutting my eyes and weightlessly drifting, I had accidently yielded to the unseen pull of the water and had gone a bit further then I normally would. Reopening them a time later, I righted myself, startled when my eyes centered on the unfamiliar segment of ceiling.

A moment of consideration, and I determined it was no real problem as I stole a deep breath and dashed beneath the surface. Since I had not gone this far on previous ventures, I saw no cause to dismiss the chance of seeing the unidentified area.

I bobbed there in buoyancy, blinking eyelids that wanted to keep themselves shut.

That was another peculiar thing about this place. The water did not sting my eyes, and although my vision was blurred, the monolithic grotto presented a novel sight I had not seen before. Like a wide bowl aglow with a diluted, pale sapphire hue, and honeycombed with lit caves leading to somewhere unknown, I gazed upon this for as long as I was able.

Breathing could be such a pain.

I resurfaced, blowing the stinging fluid out of my nose. Whipping my head to banish the droplets of moisture, I returned to my back, flexing my arms in an upside-down breaststroke to move me back to the beach of glossy rock. Having seen multiple parts of my secret haven before, the scenes above the water still gave me a sensation of awe.

Ornamenting the dark domain of realm below the domed horizon of a stone column flooded sky, massive saucers dwelt strung together by low, rippling dunes of soot hued stone. Filled to their brims with independent, silvery ponds, those disks actually contained a deadly, superheated, semi liquid compound.

"Beautiful to behold and terrible to touch," I muttered.

I pinched my nostrils shut and went under again, not bothering to flip to leave the perspective of the undulating surface above me.

After kicking for a certain amount of unnoted time, that or needing to renew my borrowed oxygen, I would ensure myself of the distance between a painful collision to my skull and my goal of land. Midway there and still underwater with my legs pumping to propel me, the sudden sinuous, weaving shadow of King dividing the unbroken surface startled me enough to release a small swarm of bubbles. As I watched the fluxing wake of his leisured retreat, I, without premeditation, reached my fingertips up and drifted them along the remaining section of his tail before he went beyond my complete reach.

My head emerged from the mass of water, causing my hair to drape on my face like a second skin. No longer wanting to stay submersed, my fingers abandoned their stations of crimping my nose closed. I doggie paddled blindly ahead, knowing my outstretched hands would strike anything solid first. In perhaps several swipes and kicks forward, my fingers scraped on the irregular face of a traveling limitation. Perching my hands on the edge, I pulled myself up and onto my knees, not altogether welcoming the reintroduction of weight to my formerly buoyant frame.

With a black curtain of hair still covering my entire head and stealing my sight, I ran my hands down my body, flicking off the excess dampness rolling down my skin to lessen the sopping duty of my towel.

Just as I lifted my arms to compress the water out of my hair, something unexpected happened. Warmth encircled my lower torso, a wonderfully dry, fluffy envelopment coming to rest above my breasts. The sheer surprise made me suck in a breath and jerk away violently. Although, registering on a dim level of genius, I felt the outline of large hands splayed wide over my back.

Unable to use a visual confirmation in my panic, I shoved apart my blinds made from hair. Shock, plain and simple, stole my ability to inhale refreshing air, it stopped the mental processing factory called my brain, and ultimately it froze my frantic heart. Using a mouth that refused to function, I managed to utter little noises related to a choking frog.

"I win, Winterborn."

Rumbled the towering creature I had previously thought of as a fabricated being.

* * *

**-Disclaimer-**

**Sonsasu does not own Predator**

* * *

**A.N**

**Many thanks to my beta.**


	5. The Predator's Hunger

**To Date a Yautja**

**By, Sonsasu**

**Chapter Five**

"**The Predator's Hunger"**

* * *

Fear writhed in a shallow pit of my stomach, sitting there in all its wiggling glory like a spilt cup of slime-covered worms left to drown. What I was staring at, a fiend in human shape that was holding me imprisoned in my own damn towel…was no measly human in an expressionless rubber costume. The harsh countenance portrayed on his alien features told me such.

Though humanoid in bodily appearance, as I knew from the movies, the vicious nightmare that was his facial aspects terminated all scant resemblance to humans. Four mandibles, like crab legs, immediately seized my gaze.

Well, that sent French kissing right out the window with a pair of lead anvils tied on to it.

The flexible appendages, each tipped with a wicked tusk, flared apart, unfolding from their neutral positions in a sharp union of movement. Despite his hot breath not exactly being a pleasant nose tickler, it was not what caused my nausea. A consuming fear, extremely acute, bled an intense dose of adrenalin into my system, and by it happening so quickly, I felt faint from the two warring impulses of fight or flight, if only for a fluttering second.

Yautja only spread all of their twitchy face bits when blind with the purest of fury.

My gaze went to the task of terrifying myself further by looking into his hellish oral cavity, which made me think that he would be an orthodontist's worst-case scenario. I could already hear it…

"How do you hook these bitches together? And what the hell is the right alignment?"

Concealed within those independently moving extremities, a series of unblemished fangs adorned the exposed dark pink gums of his inner mouth, upper and lower canines longer than my middle finger.

Rapidly cataloging his current expression and matching it to memorized tidbits of information about Yautja facial maneuvers, he presented me with a remarkably good reason to stop. I instinctively drew backwards as his head came nearer, mandibles still extended to their fullest widths. Those outspread members gently ghosted around my cheeks and jaw, closed onto, and then framed my face in a particularly disturbing embrace.

A few choice actions, such as screaming, struggling and all good things like that quickly skidded to a halt when his continued motion forced my unwilling lips to press against his teeth in a macabre kiss and my poor nose to encounter something rather unpleasant. Where it came into contact, located directly center on where _his_ nose _should_ have rested, or at least nostrils slits, was on the flat, hard ridge instead. The explosion of his throaty purr vibrating through my skull like the dull roar of a monster truck engine apparently made my common sense abandon me.

I snapped opened my mouth, perhaps to voice my shock from the foreign sensation, or maybe for some other reason of protest, but I never got the chance as Predy took full advantage of my stupidity. His teeth parted like a pair of colossus gates, allowing something hot, slick, and moist to caress my lower lip, dart past it, and glide across my tongue in a single, swift swipe before retreating to its owner.

Uttering a noise of, "ugh!" I yanked my head from him in disgust, not thinking about how his tusks could peel my face like a banana.

Yet he had released me already from his unusual kiss-clasp, possibly on the foreseen reaction to his inspection of my mouth. On an urge I submitted to, my hand flew to the assaulted area, originally intending to wipe clean any traces of his smooch and immediately paused. From beneath his expressive, boney eyebrows, set forward like a natural earthbound hunter, solemn eyes observed my form as he resumed his towering height over me.

Amber irises, glinting like the warmed hue of honey cradled aloft to a light source, held a form of stark vividness in their depths, a type of unyielding strength that made me painfully uneasy in its presence. In other words, I did not appreciate the look I was acquiring. The bastard could have at least volunteered the courtesy of blinking. Oh wait, ogling with direct eye contact was a rude gesture to him…and I doubted my prolonging of staring would receive a pleasant consequence.

I carefully sent my gaze downward, imagining I would assess the glossy ground, only to have myself educated in the relaxed state of a Yautja's anatomy when I caught sight of Predy's lack of coverings. Oh yeah, my jaw fell slack as I ogled him wide-eyed. His…maleness did not look overly different from a human's, hell, if not for the slight ridges and the wider crown topping it, the damn thing would have looked the same. However, as for the size, I had heard of the saying, "hung like a horse," but for him it was more like, "hung like an elephant."

I felt the color drain from my face.

Not because of his oblivious and frighteningly intimidating endowments, but that I was a human, a mere wisp of flesh and bones compared to his greater bulk. I had also made a deal with him, an ignorant assumption of what I had believed as lies and games, was going to happen, if I went on the view of the absence of his apparel.

Moreover, he was a genuine Predator.

The realization of what stood before me, the absolute, shocking reality of it, produced a searing black ice of terror to freeze my blood. That terrible sensation imploded outward to my muscles, causing them to go rigid and unresponsive. It went on to ensnare my sensory activities and send them into overdrive, strangling me in an overwhelming and utter domination of helplessness.

There was a moment, just a brief, scorching flash of a second that yielded to me a realization of what stole my rationality. The hydra of many problems was fear in its most basic of forms. On that spot of time, I was able step from myself to examine this, literally treat it like a solid, touchable object held in my hand. I turned the deformed anxiety over, awestruck that such a glimmer of something once so petty could assume control in an instant.

Fearfulness, as I knew it, was as an emotional response, a basic survival mechanism occurring when in the presence of threats and danger. As I tilted this little, insignificant thing again, I experienced how my heartbeat violently thundered, felt how it palpitated and knocked against my ribs in its frantic pace. I returned this mutated lump of feeling upright, my mind buzzing hotly, every thought vivid and detail as clear as if printed on a sheet of paper. Yet they were all terribly imperfect in my quivering state, and I knew it.

There came another second where I began to employ that fractured lucidity through questions and answers, seeking to bring my toes to touch upon the floor of sanity by assuring myself with reason.

Why was I frightened?

Staring at the hideous face that should have remained imprisoned in a dreamer's nightmare was not too bothersome, I determined. Now, resisting the backbone liquefying intimidated from the giant who stood before me was another feat all on its own. Even after meeting, talking and joking with people wearing Predator costumes could not fully help to erase that kind of headache.

Then was it the expectation of pain and the possibility of its horrendous Goth cousin, Death appearing?

Yes, to both accounts. I did not relish the ideal of withstanding enormous amounts of physical pain. In fact, the very image of one of his massive hands enclosing on my throat and crushing the fragile column with just the slightest of squeezes terrified me. Indeed, the two family members of unpleasant demise did breed flames of concern to lick my insides, but rather than wander further into their examinations, thus melting the uneven quality of my logic, I quickly set them aside in a separate pile of what kept me paralyzed.

Was it therefore the terror of nameless possibilities at the mercy of a Yautja, a creature whose very existence stood established on hunting? The limitless prospective of unknown theories at the hands of another you did not distinguish from a stranger was not a pleasing tidbit of information to toss around the ol' brainpan.

Did I honestly need to fear him?

The photoflash of an impression from my memory, noted and gone, came out of a cache from one of the many scenes of me sitting at my desk, smiling as I spoke with Predy during a late night chat. Caution perhaps, was the best route as I abruptly considered the option that his giant frame might carry more of a friendly temperament as shown in our conversations.

If he were human, would I react as badly?

No, what was I thinking? He was not human and this was not an alternative scenario. This was not a, _what if_, situation up for consideration. I needed to think clearly, I needed to bleed the fear out of my system before action came into play.

On the next tick of a second, I withdrew from the racing shallows of my mind, held my breath and started to count.

One.

Fear was anticipation, blind expectancy, or the fear of the unknown.

Two.

I lacked the faceless cards of clairvoyance and foreknowledge, but I was not entirely helpless.

Three.

I was not alone, King was here, and if I called, he would come.

Four.

Caught frozen in a car's headlights on a winter night did not always mean the car was going to intentionally hit you.

Five.

I swallowed the dry pill that was the strangulation of fear.

Forcing starving lungs formerly neglected to process the needs of their function, I ignored the increased queasiness eating away at my stomach. Crippled from the usurp of my returning senses, the wounded, bitter frame of terror dragged its fainting limbs in retreat, closing the phantom doors of my mind from the greater effect of its poisonous influence.

Trembling muscles finally awakened from the pause of unreality, and contributed to an unsteady exhale. I licked my lips with a tongue that felt equally dry, thinking with a sluggish gumption, what now? Moving might have been nice, but it was as if my motion receptors were turned off and I was deactivated to respond to my brain's commands.

Predy, the generous bastard, solved that problem for me.

Those hands, once inanimate along my back, holding the edges of the towel, abruptly came to life. His thumbs moved; coming to encircle my ribs as you would on the wider body of a wine bottle. This, and the length of his fingers, allowed him to lift my semirigid figure of one hundred and seventy-two pounds up without placing a hideous amount of stress on the structure of my bones.

Arms bound in tight slabs of steely sinew wove around me, aiding in heightening the realization of the inequality of my size compared to his superior magnitude. It was a sickeningly humbling experience. Cradling me firmly, yet gingerly against his warm, concrete hard chest, my perceptions went haywire when I felt his calloused palm, abrasive in a strangely good way, slide and grip my bare bottom to keep me in place.

It caused me to jerk, my parted thighs braced on the sides of his waist to tighten their hold, and my empty grasp to flee to his broad shoulders. I tried to pull away immediately, to distance myself, and in retaliation, that same hand holding my backside stiffened and pushed my hips forward. It roughly shoved my sex, which the hiked up towel did not protect, onto the plane of his stomach, keeping us pressed together in a confining contact.

The notion of lashing out, landing a flat, more-than-likely-break-my-knuckles, punch somewhere on his face went sailing before my forebrain. I considered it, and then waved to the idea as it passed by.

His free hand, actually his palm, went to the back of my head. It formed to the shape with his long fingers sliding into my hair, combing through the wet locks, separating them and causing me to shiver against him. He began to push, spreading his mandible once more, for what I was assuming to be another Yautja version of a kiss.

I was having none of that.

My hands, formerly on his broad shoulders, dove into his mass of dreadlocks and found several to grab. A nasty snarl set my heart in a reservoir of ice. I refused to let go, however. Kissing was nice, but I preferred mine with lips involved. His growl softened to a low bass, throaty purr, giving me the full effects of the harsh vibration rolling through him.

Tugging backwards on the thick, tube like tresses to defend my personal space, I strained the limits of my circumscribed boundaries to escape the impending facial embrace. In the wake of my restraining him via his tresses, Predy supplied a significant amount pressure to his previously delicate clasp, each digit becoming a warning vice to the integrity of my skull. I got the message and wondered.

Did I really want to test a Yautja's good will?

His discouraging presentment of a potential risk to my health dislodged my imposed brakes on his head with incredibly speedy results. He huffed in my face, as if disappointed I had given in so quickly. Right now, defiance was not a favorite player in my hopefully successful routine of attempted escape. His hold resumed its earlier leniency, though not in intention. I was unable to swallow my unwilling whine as his mandibles went back into the hug-my-face grip and his inner mouth opened against mine.

This was so wrong on so many levels, and when I went to keep my lips zippered shut, the tips of his lower tusks tightened then bit into my skin. I barely opened my mouth to make a noise of pain, and that tongue, long, prehensile and somewhat rough, thrust, and explored with a more leisured pace this time. It ghosted over the surfaces of my teeth, wandered lazily on them, and toyed with their grooves and edges.

I had never wanted to bite down on anything as much as I did in that instant.

His implement of hungry probing dueled briefly against the might of my mouth's own pink and shorter champion. He ultimately ended the battle by pinning my weaker tongue like in a thumb war. I groaned as he caressed my taste buds, fighting the natural need to retch.

"_Oh, good God."_

I sucked in air using my flattened nose, feeling my stomach roll as my brain told me what he tasted like. The revolting flavor of his saliva was something bitter, salty and underlying with another nameless thing turned sweetly sour. A muffled yelp, muted by our joined faces, failed properly to announce my shock during the meeting of my derrière encountering the spongy cloud called a sleeping cot.

Somehow, he had walked the two of us to the alcove without my noticing. Then again, concentrating on not expelling my stomach's contents did have quite a distracting factor behind it. The second he unlocked his face from mine, I tore away from him; or tried to, anyway.

The unyielding, curved stone of the wall brought me up short. Not to mention Predy decided to take hold of the edge of my towel, thus hampering the scramble backwards. Clutching it to cover at the very least my breasts, I watched him gather a small portion of the fabric and lift it, using the wadded cloth to soak up the remaining droplets along my arms and neck.

My heart fluttered, slamming against my ribs, and I could hardly call my limbs into functioning order no matter how hard I attempted to, not after spotting what lined the floor beside the dingy gray cot, opposite of where I pressed myself against. He could be preparing for an all out war for as many edged weapons that glinted and gleamed on the ground, just within _his_ arm's reach.

I dragged my gaze back to his relaxed features, experiencing that one-of-a-kind feeling of being a bobble-head when he began gradually to dry my hair.

"P-Predy?"

That name sounded absurd as I barely brought it to life in a faint voice. He rumbled in his throat, a low grating dissonance that did not bode well with my nerves. The air I intended to apply for my speech of inquiries emerged as formless, short puffs of expelled breath, mainly because I did not know where to begin, but my brain insisted on utilizing the action. It did last long enough for a considerably sensible question to materialize, though.

"Can you…understand me?"

* * *

**-Disclaimer-**

**Sonsasu does not own Predator**

* * *

**A.N**

**Many thanks to my beta.**


	6. The Brother of Night

**To Date a Yautja**

**By, Sonsasu**

**Chapter Six**

"**The Brother of Night"**

* * *

His service of removing the water from my hair stopped; and in that little lull of motion between him and me, one of his upper mandibles twitched. It began tapping its tusk against one of his inner mouth's canines, creating these small, sharp clicks. Oh come on, did my question really require a thoughtful consideration on his part? With a measured motion, he inclined his head, if barely. Okey-dokey…what was I going to ask him then?

"Are you going to hurt me?" I blurted without forethought. Oh, what a simple and tremendous candy-filled wonderland I had to live in to spit out such an open-ended, generalized query. It was a blunt thing to ask, a stupid thing even. He could say no, hell, anyone could reply with that. Giving a reassurance of not inflicting harm did not mean he was not going to adhere to what I believed as 'hurting' me. In the comparative sense of injury possibly meaning an idle flick to the nose, or light pinch on the arm, versus losing the appendage or limb altogether, he might see the latter as the lesser evil.

I swallowed while waiting for his answer. He dropped his head the way a dog might right before it sneezed, and huffed. The loud, harsh exhale made me jump, if only because I had not expected such an air related response.

That fistful of fabric he held suddenly grew taut, and I had no more time to flood my lungs with a gasp before the rest of the towel followed, fled from my grasp and body in a snap of motion. Naked, I scrambled sideways, casting aside modesty to the greater need of gathering distance.

His massive hand connected with an outstretched ankle in the midst of my flight backwards, unable to contain the rush of adrenaline woven with fear, I screamed. Embarrassing as it was, hearing the shrill noise and feeling my throat vibrate with the terrible cry, there was no way of controlling the now relinquished expression of terror. He tugged once, and with the physical strength coiled in the thick sinews of his arm, I went sailing toward him.

No, no, no, no, no!

As the former air I had used for a gasp ran on empty, I refused to have another screech fit, and settled for chocking down on the frantic ocean of hysteria.

There was a brutal reality behind my breakdown out of a fragile, semi calm state. I really did not want to indulge on anything carnal with him, virginal inexperience controlling outward reactions to his aggressive behavior. Surrendering my first time like this was too fast and too much for me to contend with.

The instant my forced inertia halted, I braced a palm on the cot, and tightened required muscles to flee in any direction presented. Escape skipped out the door- so to speak- when Predy lunged, pinning a claim over my torso by looming over me on all fours. Staring up at liquid yellow eyes that could belong to an owl, I lay shock still, tensed for the worst. A trickle of a growl faintly colored the air, and I recognized- if just by the sheer colossi size compared to mine- that potential evasion was a lost cause here, not when his fast reception to motion outclassed mine so severely.

"Predy, plea-"

An agitated flick of the head sent his tube-like dreadlocks rustling.

"_Night Brother."_

Stunned by the abrupt change in our manner, I just barely caught the Yautja language out of his rumbling.

"S'cuse me?"

He mimicked my English name for him, slowly rolled his head in a plainly displeased action, and then repeated the earlier phrase. Reduced to an unmoving state to think, the dose of adrenaline remained unused, thus I trembled in its dying wake.

"Night Brother's your name…"

If not for my fascination with the full Predator language, I would have missed the lower, negative rattle infix to the word Night, keeping it from becoming shadow, or sky, and Brother was merely a set word, not requiring additional bits to alter it to anything else. He lowered himself, flattening my breasts almost to pancakes. There was the gripping need to let out a scream again, a need I swallowed and reduced to a whimper.

"_I- no- harm-"_

I lost most of the translation, catching only the part of him indicating himself, a negative, and the term for injury. Shaking hands migrated upward, moving to rest on his mid ribs.

"Could you…please get off me?"

His eyes lowered to half-mast as he inhaled, undoubtedly dragging a list of scents in that no human nose could detect. Night must have found a particular odor he enjoyed with the tremor that set his body shuddering against me.

"_No."_

Had my hands not lain confined, trapped under his arms coffining me in, I would have gone for his eyes. Stealing a shuddering breath, knowing it sounded much like a continuous sob forced into submission, nausea ate away the sedate balance of my stomach. My neck went lax, limbs following suit, as the drain-off of too many emotions demanded its fee on a dying defiance.

This could not be happening.

Reality, just because you stop believing in it, doesn't make it go away…

I had never really wanted to pretend something did not exist; most mind-bending events could lead to understanding, given enough time, of course. However, to encounter a traumatic consequence that resisted a human ingrained logic, well, this crashed under the category of too-much-to-handle-at-once.

A dull howling inside my skull inhibited sanity for a moment, one blissful, thoughtless, moment. Both eyelids lowered closed. The length of that pause gently rotated to a lightless black, and it was a thick rattle, and the lack of warmth atop of me, to help a realization really hit home as I reopened my eyes.

I had fainted, and Night Brother was at my side, reclining on the right of the cot with an arm curled over my waist. Moistening dry lips, I opened them to ask a question. The words were absent; in their stead was a gasp. Night Brother repeated his incredible agility qualities in one smooth motion. Low, his torso spread my legs apart, calves hooked over broad shoulders, with his hands- more like forefingers and thumbs- cradling my wrists.

"Get the fuck off me!" Panic reformed quickly to vehement struggle, rapid, violent jerks of tired muscles causing the straining sinews to scream in fiery aches. No amount of pulling, twisting, or arching resulted to liberation, hardly; it just helped loathsome knowledge of how much more powerful his frame acted compared to me sink in. "This isn't physically possible! You'll rip something!" Unable to fertilize energy into producing another fight, as Night Brother had allowed my worse tantrum to pass, I clunked my head backwards on the cot, feeling it dip into the embrace of sponginess. There was a fervent wish that my bladder needed relief, but I had done that back home, and hadn't had anything to drink since, thus, no pissing on his face to deter him…

Trivial wrenches to take back my hands aside, hopelessness of being utterly undone, human strength and speed surpassed without effort, began the quiver of my yield. Lips shivering, jaw locked, and eyes mashed shut, the intermission for Night to force our deal allotted sluggish thoughts to swish gingerly. "Can we hold off on the ending part of our bargain? I...I really hadn't believed you'd get here so fast. Please, my body can't possibly accommodate all of your- Ah!"

The first saliva coated, hot, flick of his tongue parting my nether lips swiftly had caught me off guard. Protesting the…foreign attack, sudden sensation height painfully brutal, I gave a wordless shout. "Bastard! S-stop… N- Ah!" This time he had dragged his tongue from the start of the slit, pushing apart the fleshy rims, before creeping upward, intentionally rasping over my bud for a heartbeat, before retreating.

Another careful, lingering pass, another almost-pained cry and twist of my body, came to take the leap of change with this lick. Opened to emit warm, humid air into desperate lungs, I shut my mouth, teeth gritted. For sanity measures, I began to slather his name in curses, loud as possible, and to keep resistance alive, beat my heels onto the steel-like hardness of his back.

The alien touch of roughened taste buds began to exchange tense half-pain to something…different by the forth lick. Stomach and vaginal walls clenching to the new modifications from discomfort to a type of odd pleasure, the uncertainty to the perception gave birth to a hesitant noise. It fluttered to my ears, surprising me badly enough that I shut up instantly.

Insistent, hungry, flashings of the blunt length of his tongue across my entrance strangled all ability to inhale a breath. It felt incredible, while at the same time it impounded horror; knowing it eventually would lead to agony helped carve a niche in the growing wall of pleasure for defiance. Rather than rain rapid, random light strikes onto his shoulders, I tightened up and unleashed several viscous impacts to his spine.

He stopped.

Then again, so did I; that had hurt like a frigging bitch!

His eyes, those gleaming amber hues, focused on my face for several erratic heartbeats, then slid downward. You'd think I had tossed a starving monster a bountiful feast with how his features intensified, a stark look of bared lust concentrated on the sight between my legs. At half-mast, his eyelids fell over his gaze, and a deep, raw, throaty purr bled from him like dulled thunder. The sinful vibration cut off when he dragged in a deep inhale, hot breath ghosting over my exposed flesh causing me to shudder.

Partly lifted on my elbows, I flinched naturally backwards at the sharp flare of his mandibles and inner mouth full of teeth, stressing the limitations of my frame by fighting to pull away. His hands disappeared from their duty of shackling my wrists, and then halted to encircle my lower thighs in the grasp of long, strong fingers tipped with wicked sable talons. Despite the pain thrumming in my heels from the pounding I gave his spine, I resumed thrashing; with hands free now, I also socked him on an upper mandible, believing it would hurt enough to make him at least pause.

Night did not even shake a dreadlock in reaction, no, only his tongue thrusting forth and practically shoving itself onto that hidden pearl cruelly, then impaling my channel, was his reply to my fist. Mine was to cry out and fall onto the cot, fingers sent to curl into the edge's fabric until it whispered a creak in objection. Chest rising and falling uncontrolled, all attention went to that instrument of torture invading and retreating. I couldn't lift my pelvis to met his languid ministrations to speed up the pace, nor shy from them with the clasp of his hands keeping me motionless.

Once again, he stopped, my internal walls squeezing on nothing but still seeking more even against my decaying will. I lifted my head, anxiety written on the tug of lowered eyebrows and the pinch of watering eyes. Panting, my throat convulsed as I tried to swallow a far louder vocal expression when the tip of his tongue strayed out, extended forward, and tickled both nether lips and then flushed bud.

Shaky hands settled on his, tightening on the larger ones, not to remove their hold, just to convey silent want for more. There was no genuine hope of escape, no probable way to exceed him on anything, and no strength matched to what he could do if he wanted to harm me. I'd just have to prepare as best I could. While not subtle in its clue, he reacted positively to my gripping him.

I was unable to repress the tortured scream that swelled into the air, not when his wild tongue fiercely assailed my aching opening. It was the sweet struggle to breathe, to battle to twist away, to contend on no certain term with beautiful agony, which reduced all fight to void itself to nonexistence. Stabbing bliss bloomed into fiery heat inside clenching walls and stomach; it ran hand in hand with the wet trails marking the corners of my eyes, and sides of my face.

Any remaining control splintered at the introduction of harsh, bubbling growling. The quaking rumbling rocked through his mouth better than those resonating spheres I used whenever I got bored in the evenings. Choking on nothing but air, my thighs pressed onto Night's head. His performance didn't suffer by my accidental bodily reaction, if anything…it excited him. The reapplied vigor was too much, the growing surges of pleasure in my belly was simply too much.

Shuddering helplessly, the starting point of a climax was unmistakable. The white-hot tides crashed faster and closer together during the thrusts of his tongue, the unmitigated rushes not dimming in intensity. Feeling the exertion calling in its dept as the trickling of rolling sweat teased down my skin, my internals flushed hotter from the searing breath of pleasure. Holding onto Night as a lifeline carried me into a higher escalation, burning ecstasy showing itself as a red bloom across my face, a blush that set the surface of my flesh boiling.

Another frail breath ended in a sobbing whimper as he rammed his tongue deep as it would safely go. My thighs contracted, trying to bring his face further, to increase what I needed to find release. I smashed my eyelids shut, body tightening upward into an arch, riding and confining the first concussion blast of an orgasm.

Night had other ideas, however.

Senseless frustration peaked when I failed to arrive to oblivion in rapture. Speech came as incoherent protests, tear besotted eyes and expression pinched in a mixture of a grimace and desperation. I rebelled through attempts to tug him back, using my legs and even my hands entangled in his dreadlocks. Astonishingly, he trilled in laughter. As if my demands were just the equivalence of flimsy vapor to his iron strength, he outright ignored my strife to drag him back.

His right hand left my hip, returning it with his forearm to drape over them instead; wicked fingers long enough to curl on my left curve completely, arresting it in his might. Whole-heartedly pinned, he shimmied backward slightly, left hand disappearing from sight. Thrumming desire animated my thoughts, yet no realization dawned on what that other intended to do. Unwitting naivety lasted only for a hot second. My entrance felt the solid presence of a fingertip in the space of a heartbeat, recognition dawned, and while that understanding hit, molded around the stunning girth when it eased forth.

"Ah!"

How his talon didn't slice into me was a mystery for later; nothing other than the smooth, substantial invasion and retreat of that digit mattered. It thrust without hurry, no rush despite pleading. In anger, I retracted my hands from his 'hair,' and fully intending to finish the job myself, barely snatched them away before Night's inner mouth caught them…

"Damn it then hurr- Oh!"

My mouth fell slack. During the withdrawal, a second finger joined, impaling my channel wider when it slid and neighbored the first. Those two cracked my ability to inhale when they moved, stopping short of breaching my hymn. Yet all sanity shattered at the writhing brush of his tongue to that hypersensitive nubbin. Constricting his fingers with rapid squeezes from my walls, fighting to escape and to get closer to Night was a bewildering war to toss in my participation. Torture straddled the finely drawn line of orgasmic domination and absolute madness.

Whenever he took his fingers out, he'd run the flat of his tongue over my bud like lingering flame of ice, while timing their exit with the length of it. Both hands smashed into the cot, my nails raking over the fabric covered foam bed. "Night Brother-" I sobbed, "please!" I didn't entirely expect a yield of his stubborn foreplay to my begging, but he was just so…full of surprises. Breathing became impossible, unless it involved gasping and then screams. His tongue never left the surface of my pearl, relentlessly rubbing up and down in union with the forceful plunge of his fingers.

Approaching like the colliding clamps of a vice, pleasure overcame reality, detaching it from awareness. I adjourned to the realm without mortal boundaries, drowning in the crashing weight of the ocean conceived from the waters of physical delight. All that existed there was blinding sensation; carnal need I wanted a finish to. Muscles shook as his caressing somehow escalated. The last haunting pass of his tongue, its tip dwelling so that it might grind idly, paired with the drive and flex of his fingers, is what did me in.

Unimaginable, the orgasm's constrained force brightened into a condensed core, two heartbeats, before transmuting into a mass implosion within my frame, rivaling an exploding super-nova. My back abandoned the cot for the open air, head acting like an axis with my pinned hips as its opposite end. Screaming through the possession of the breaking undulations from his hungry ministrations, the pulsing manifestation of delectation crested at the highest note.

Expiring past that highlighted stage of incorporeality, bliss gradually diminished in connection to Night's cruel stimulation. Able to regain mastery over frantic lungs, heaving gulps of air returned rationality. I was limp on the sweat-drenched cot, too content to wiggle even a toe.

Sleep avoided me, muted peace ringing forgetfulness of the situation. If this was what sex was, well, sign my fuzzy ass up for as many rounds as humanly possible! Trapped in my own world, drifting in the buzz, laughter died at the trickle of a low, dark purr. Although snapping my eyelids open might have seemed nice as a dramatic scene, they merely fluttered, parting gingerly. Amber eyes hovered inches away.

"It's…considered rude to stare."

Rumbling, he leaned back, kneeling with the narrow bed situated between his thighs, my own legs mantling his hips. Wetting dry lips, my languid stare traveled down the steep concaves of his muscles, the ripples of hardened steel cloaked under a layer of skin. Appreciation of the male body leapt higher than an airplane. Expect this one had engine trouble mid flight and dropped faster than a fucking boulder. Night's standing erection might have turned a blue whale green with envy.

He loomed over me, hands coiling under my knees.

"Oh God…no."

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**-Disclaimer-**

**Sonsasu does not own Predator**

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**A.N.**

**Thanks for reading the story~**

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